The Midnight Kiss
by betweenstories
Summary: Series of one-shots exploring how Piper and Alex might have spent their New Year celebrations together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Series of one-shots exploring how Piper and Alex might have spent their New Year's Eves together if they hadn't broken up. Some fluff, some angst. (Not sure how many there will be. I'll probably just write them until I run out of ideas.)

This one is for context, and to get things started. As always, please let me know what you think!

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><p>Predictably, they ended up at the bar.<p>

It had a name, but no one ever used it; to Piper and her friends it was simply _the bar_, the only one in town that mattered. It was the one they always seemed to stumble into on the night before pay day, when they were dead broke and eating ramen at every meal just so they could still afford pitchers of cheap beer. For a band of underemployed college graduates, the bar was the perfect hole-in-the-wall hideout, the only place in town that felt as charmingly threadbare as they did themselves. It had an old jukebox that played terrible one-hit wonders, a disintegrating pool table with a set of cracked cue sticks, and two-for-one specials almost every weeknight. They would sit in their torn up booth in the corner and think, _well, at least we're not as broken as this old dump_, and feel oddly cheerful about it.

The bar was their last resort for every occasion, and New Year's Eve was no exception. Piper had planned to host the party in her apartment, but the electric company had shut off her power the day before (it wasn't that she couldn't afford the bill; she'd just forgotten to pay it). So she and her friends were here instead, at their usual table with their usual pitcher of beer, getting ready to celebrate the next mundane year-in-waiting.

Piper was expecting the next year of her life to bring more of the same; she'd been out of college for over six months now, and in that time she hadn't managed to do anything meaningful with her degree. She still lived in her college town, working last-call shifts as a waitress and making just enough money to get by without asking her parents for help, which she was determined not to do. She wanted to prove to them that she could move through the world as her own person, unaided, even if it meant cutting back on the kind of luxuries she'd become accustomed while they were still sending her an allowance. She told herself assertively that she wasn't a teenager anymore - she was twenty-two, a grown woman, and she was going to make it through another year the same way she'd made it through this one: by budgeting tight, playing hard, and, on occasion, crying it out in the shower.

"Who's buying the next round?" her best friend Polly demanded. Immediately everyone at the table placed their index finger against the tip of their nose; everyone except Piper, who'd been staring dreamily into space as she pictured the empty desert of her future prospects.

"Piper!"

She blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? No! Not fair!" she protested, staring around at them all in wide-eyed incredulity, before casting Polly a look of deep betrayal. "I wasn't ready!"

"Too bad," her friend said with a shrug. "Nose goes. It's the rule."

"Fine," she huffed, getting up from the table and heading for the bar. She was glad for an excuse to get away from the table for a few minutes, anyway. Polly and her new boyfriend, Andy, seemed unable to keep their hands off each other. They kept grabbing at each other under the table, squealing like stupid teenagers while everyone else rolled their eyes. It was revolting.

But despite that, Piper was in a good mood. She'd had enough to drink by now to sustain a pleasant buzz, and as she waited to get the bartenders attention she began to dance a little in place, singing softly under her breath. "Then what makes, then what makes, then what makes, love the exception..."

Bobbing her head around in time with the music, she turned to the side and found herself looking into a familiar gaze. It took her a minute to place the face, but then she had it: it was the hot brunette she'd met a few weeks ago in a different bar, when she'd been searching for jobs to apply to. _Alex_. That was her name.

Alex looked even more intimidating tonight than she had on that previous occasion. She was wearing a tight black dress that hid all but a hint of cleavage, and yet created a very suggestive silhouette. Her dark-framed glasses seemed to magnify the bright look of amusement in her eyes, which were an indescribable green-grey hue. She was staring at Piper with one eyebrow arched, her lips pressed into an amused little smirk. On cue, Piper stopped bouncing and felt her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

"Oh no, don't stop on my account," the woman said with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and idly crossing her legs. "I want to see you shake it like a polaroid picture."

In that moment, Piper wanted nothing more than to sink through a hole in the floor and never be seen again. She was tempted to feign confusion, pretend she didn't remember meeting Alex before now, but it was no good: no one could forget a face like this one. "Alex," she said, finally, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.

"Piper Chapman," the dark-haired woman replied, sounding infinitely more at ease. She set her beer down idly on the bar, giving Piper her full attention. "I like seeing this side of you. Less Laura Ingalls Wilder, more Fergie-Ferg."

"Oh _god_," Piper whispered, covering her face with her hands. "Can you please just go back to mocking my résumé?"

"Tell me you don't work _here."_

_"_I don't work here," she replied, perhaps a little too defensively. It was not for lack of trying, in fact - she'd applied twice in a four-month period. In the end, though, it was probably for the best. If she'd gotten the job she'd never spend another night away from this place. It would subsequently lose all of its shabby chic appeal, and then she'd have to buy her drinks at a pricier bar.

"Good," Alex said, with a smile and a nod. "What are you having?"

"Why?" She lowered her hands from her face, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Because I'm buying you a drink."

Piper bit her lip; what did sophisticated people drink? Not margaritas in winter, Alex had made fun of her for that.

She said the first thing that came into her head: "Sex on the beach?"

She regretted it immediately.

"Okay, wow," the dark-haired woman said, between bouts of laughter. "The innuendo is too obvious, I'm not even going to say it."

"No one sets me up as the butt of a joke better than I do," Piper agreed, smiling sheepishly. Then her face fell as she groaned, leaning forward so that her hair formed a protective curtain. "Don't," she said, warningly, before Alex could reply.

"Don't what? Make a joke about your ass?" She was still laughing. "Don't need to, you beat me to it."

"I think I need that drink," Piper said, in a tone of defeat. She emerged from the protective shield of her long, meticulously crimped hair, and met Alex's gaze with a tentative smile.

Alex chuckled, placing her elbow delicately atop the bar and motioning for the busy bartender's attention. When she finally got it, she asked for two shots. "It's the middle of fucking winter," she informed Piper, in reply to the blonde's perplexed expression. "Not the time for fruity cocktails."

"What?! It's the perfect time!" Piper protested. "It's, you know- escapism. Makes you forget about the fact that it's freezing out."

"Hm. My escape is a flight to Fiji," Alex said, with a shrug. "Just got back yesterday." There was a self-satisfied look on her face, as if this kind of travel was something she took pleasure in bragging about often. Not that Piper could blame her.

"So when you said you were skipping town, you meant _literally," _the blonde said, putting the pieces together. Alex had mentioned last time they met that she traveled often for work, but Piper wasn't sure what exactly her job was. The drug cartel thing _had_ to be a joke. Alex looked a little rough around the edges, sure. She had that tattooed, dyed hair thing going on. But in Piper's experience, attractive white women in the prime of their lives didn't start peddling drugs on street corners. "What do you _really_ do for a living?" She asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Alex raised her eyebrows. "I don't like to talk business on my nights off," she said, vaguely. Then she slid the second shot glass toward Piper, who lifted it hesitantly.

"Vodka? Straight?"

"When in winter, do as the Russians."

"Unless you're in Fiji," Piper quipped, with a small smile.

"Unless you're in Fiji," Alex agreed, raising her shot glass. "Cheers."

Piper watched the brunette toss back her shot, and then did the same. As she swallowed, her gaze wandered back to the corner booth where Polly was now waving at her impatiently, looking exasperated. The rest of the group was gone.

"Is that your date?" Alex asked, with an odd, vaguely hostile look in her eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," Piper replied. "That's my friend, Polly."

"Ah, right." Her expression softened. "The manager of Le Grand Fromage," she said, teasingly.

Piper was mildly impressed by the fact that Alex could remember so many details about her fake résumé, and more than mildly pleased that it had apparently been so memorable. "That's the one," she confirmed, grinning at the inside joke.

"Well if she works you too hard, come find me. I know some _great_ relaxation techniques." She stood up, gave Piper a little salute, and then turned around to rejoin her own group of friends. Piper studied the sway of Alex's hips as she departed and wondered if that little sashay was put on just to tease her. If so, it was _definitely_ working. The thought made her cheeks burn and she turned away quickly, refocusing her attention on the needy best friend who was waiting back at their table.

"Took you long enough," Polly said, by way of greeting. "Where's the beer?"

"Oh. I forgot it," Piper said, feigning regret. "Where is everyone?"

"Playing pool," Polly said, with a relieved sigh. "I don't know what's gotten into Andy, he's even hornier than usual tonight."

"Yeah, I've noticed. We've _all_ noticed," Piper added, pointedly, and Polly groaned.

"That bad? Jesus, I'm sorry. I'll tell him to stop. He's so embarrassing sometimes, I swear. Like, he gets so fucking wasted, and then when I try to confront him about it he's all, 'Babe, stop being bossy!" And I'm like, fuck off! You know? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's cute, and the sex is-"

"Polly! Stop. Please. I don't want to hear another word about Andy's dick, okay?"

Polly sighed. "Speaking of your aversion to dicks - who where you talking to at the bar? Do you know her?"

"I don't have an aversion," Piper replied, defensively. For some reason, Polly had a hard time wrapping her head around Piper's fluid sexuality. "I've dated more guys than _you_ have."

"Slut," Polly chortled. "You didn't answer the question."

"Kind of. I've met her before. Remember like two months, when I applied for a job at that place down the street?"

"Oh my god, _that's_ the sarcastic asshole who said I wasn't management material?" Polly craned her neck, peering across the room. The table of Alex's friends was just barely visible, and from the way they were clapping and cheering they seemed to be engaged in a boisterous round of Quarters.

"Way to make it all about you, Pol. Don't stare at her, she'll see you!"

"No she won't, her back is turned. She looks kind of... older. How old _is_ she?"

"I don't _know_, Polly, I didn't ask! She bought me a drink, we talked for like five minutes, that's it."

Polly was still trying to catch a glimpse of brunette's face, but Alex remained turned in the other direction. "Is she hot?" Polly asked, giving up and turning back to face her friend.

Piper didn't hesitate. "Yes," she confirmed. "_Very_."

Not textbook, though. Alex wasn't conventionally attractive; she wasn't conventional anything. She looked like the grownup version of the girl you'd meet a punk concert at age fourteen - the blue streaks in her hair, the heavy sarcasm, the cocky attitude. On anyone else it would have seemed juvenile, but somehow Alex pulled it off. Maybe it was in the way she carried herself, like she _knew_ she was hot shit. Maybe it was because her attitude was the perfect foil to Piper's cautious outlook. Whatever -it- was, Alex definitely had Piper's attention.

"You know," Polly ventured, "Andy and Tim are playing pool right near her table. We could..."

"Join them?" Piper finished, studying the conspiratorial smile on her friend's face as she, too, began to grin. "I mean, it would be rude not to, right? We can't just ignore Andy and Tim."

"Exactly," Polly concluding, nodding in approval.

They stopped at the bar on their way. It was only an hour until midnight, and Piper didn't feel nearly drunk enough yet to ring in the new year. Drinks in her hand, she and Polly made their way over to the pool table where the guys were playing. They were evidently inebriated enough to be evenly matched; they kept taking turns knocking the cue ball into the pocket and then laughing as if they'd done it on purpose, even though they were clearly trying not to.

"Boys can be such idiots sometimes," Polly said, sipping her drink and rolling her eyes.

"Boys in general, or these two specifically?" Piper quipped, sneaking a sideways glance at Alex's table. The brunette was no longer there. Piper felt a pang of disappointment and wondered if she'd had left to hit up another bar before the night was over. She didn't have to wait long for her answer, however.

"Holy shit!" Polly hissed.

"What?"

"She's coming over here!"

"Huh? I don't-" Piper started to turn her head, but Polly stamped hard on her toes. "Ouch! What was that for!"

"Don't turn around," Polly whispered, frantically. "She's coming up behind you!"

She started laughing in a slightly manic way, pretending to be amused by something Piper had just said. Trying to remain cool, Piper took an overly large gulp of her drink and then nearly choked on it in surprise when she felt a hand tap her on the shoulder.

"Mind it I cut in?"

Piper was momentarily speechless as she struggled to swallow her drink without coughing it up. Noting her distress, Polly quickly intervened.

"Not at all," she said, cheerfully. "I'll just, um... go talk to Andy." She flashed Piper a knowing smile before making herself scarce.

Piper had gotten herself under control by this time, and turned around to find Alex staring at her in frank amusement, head cocked slightly to one side. She was leaning her weight casually against a pool stick.

"Wanna play a round?"

Piper scoffed. "I don't think so. I'm not giving you another excuse to make fun of me, Alex."

Ignoring this protest completely, Alex laid the stick down across the table and started racking up the balls. "Come on, you can't be that bad."

"Oh, trust me. I am."

"One game," Alex insisted. Her tone was casual, but firm, with a steely no-nonsense undertone that made it difficult to say no.

Piper sighed. "Fine," she grudgingly acquiesced, folding her arms across her chest and watch Alex set up the game. When the brunette was done racking up the balls, she set down the cue ball and lined up the shot. As she bent over the table, the tip of her tongue poked through her teeth in concentration as she steadied herself. Piper couldn't help but admire the way that little black dress hugged her curves. The cue stick shot out like a piston, and it was a good hard break that sent one of the solid-colored balls spinning into the corner pocket. Two more followed, before the brunette finally missed.

Alex shrugged and offered the cue stick to Piper, whose arms were still folded across her chest in protest. "You've basically already won. And I told you, I'm terrible."

The brunette laughed, seemingly amused by the younger girl's stubbornness. "You've probably just never been taught how to line up your shot properly."

When Piper showed no inclination to move, Alex took matters into her own hands - literally. She pressed her palm against the curve of Piper's lower back, nudging her forward toward the table. "Come on," she chuckled. Then, lowering her head so that her lips were very close to Piper's ear, she whispered, "I can be a _very_ a good teacher."

And just like that, Piper realized she was in deep trouble. She sucked in a steadying breath, trying to decide how to respond, but Alex saved her from the decision by taking charge.

"Lean forward," the brunette instructed.

Piper bent just slightly at the waist, remaining deliberately upright. She might be awful at billiards, but _this_ was a game she could play better.

"Like this?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Wise to her tricks, Alex laughed.

"Nooo," she drawled, pressed a firm hand against Piper's back again. "Like _this," _she corrected. "Now, take the stick..." and she pressed it into Piper's palms.

"How do I hold it?"

In response, Alex curled her hand around the underside of Piper's right elbow before sliding it slowly, teasingly, down the length of her arm. Then she covered the back of Piper's hand with her own, adjusting her grip. "Hold it tight," she whispered.

"And the other hand?"

Alex reached around to arrange the blonde's fingers. "Lay the base of your palm flat," she instructed, "and steady the end of the stick with your fingers, like this."

She had her arms on either side of Piper now, boxing her in. They were standing very close together. Piper, aware this fact, wriggled back experimentally on the pretext of adjusting her position. There was a barely audible intake of breath behind her, and then Alex pressed her hips forward to close the small gap between them.

"Take your aim," Alex said, with a throaty chuckle. She blanketed Piper's hands with her own, helping her line up the shot. "And... whenever you're ready."

Piper tensed, and then thrust the stick forward. It struck the cue ball perfectly in the center, driving it the length of the table before knocking one of the striped balls hard into the corner pocket.

"Hah!" Piper exclaimed in triumph, twisting around to face Alex. The brunette allowed her enough space to maneuver, but didn't pull away. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against the edge of the table on either side of Piper's waist, pinning the blonde in front of her body.

"Piper Chapman," she purred, "are you trying to hustle me?"

They were, once again, very close together. Piper took the opportunity to study Alex's face; _really_ study it. The elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her cheek, the full, dark outline of her lips... She glanced quickly back up to meet Alex's gaze, feeling suddenly shy. All at once, the alcohol in her system seemed to catch up with her and she felt pleasantly buoyant.

"No," she whispered, smiling softly.

Alex's eyes wandered downward, and then flicked back up, boring into hers with startling intensity; for a moment, it seemed to Piper as if they might kiss. She'd never been the type to have a one-night stand with a stranger. This oddly intimate chemistry was a new experience for her, and she liked it.

Alex moved a fraction of an inch closer and Piper's stomach seemed to drop, not unlike the feeling you get when you miss a step going down a stairwell. It was a feeling of unbalance, accompanied by the uncertainty of whether you were about to make a wrong move and end up falling headfirst.

Then it was over. Alex leaned back, removing her hands so that Piper was free from that welcome prison of flesh.

"It's almost midnight," she said, by way of explanation.

"Oh."

"Time to ring in the new year."

"Right."

Piper tried not to look disappointed. She lifted her drink and finished off what was left in the glass. The television above the bar was showing Times Square in all its New Year's glory, filled with a massive crowd of revelers who were now cheering wildly, watching the giant glimmering ball descent.

The crowd in the bar began to chant: "Ten! Nine! Eight!"

Piper glanced sideways; Alex was calling out the countdown along with the rest. She caught Piper's eye.

"... six! Five! Four! Three!"

On "two," Piper felt a soft tug on her hand.

On "one," Alex had tangled her fingers in the blonde's hair, the other pressing gently beneath her chin to tilt her head higher.

_"Happy New Year!"_

The first kiss was gentle, almost tentative, a soft meeting of lips and just the barest touch of tongue. Then they stared at each other, bright eyed and flushed with elated surprise. Alex stroked Piper's chin with her thumb, a questioning look in her eyes. Piper answered it by leaning forward, and this time the kiss was less tender. It was hot and heavy and demanding, the kind of kiss you look back on later and think, _yes_, that's how it started, that's how we ended up _here_.

It's often said that the midnight kiss sets the tone for the entire year - that a good one serves as a promise of romance, while a bad one warns of a long period of loneliness. As New Year's kisses went, this one was wonderfully fortuitous. It was the moment that Piper Chapman came unstuck, felt the world begin moving beneath her; the start of the year that Alex Vause tilted her life on its axis, as sudden and unexpected as the meeting of two strangers in a small-town dive bar.

It was, in every way, a new beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your reviews! I have probably 3 more ideas after this one. It's short and super fluffy, because I just wanted to give you all a happier Vauseman Paris. Enjoy :)

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><p>That year, Piper became enchanted with airports.<p>

After spending five straight months hopping between continents, she noticed that travel hubs were full of surprise theatre: round a corner and there was a soldier striding toward his homecoming, a teary smile cracking through his practiced, stoic expression. Atop an escalator, two lovers would be holding each other for the first time in weeks, bodies pressed tight in an unspoken promise to never again become separated. Where once the din of the travelers sounded like white noise to Piper, now she heard it as its own sort of poetry. She had a new fondness for the stories of strangers because, just like her, they were all hopeful hearts skipping after someone.

That year, Piper's life in the States become a revolving door. From time to time she stepped back into it, visited family, reunited with friends, only to take a taxi back to the airport each time Alex beckoned.

Terminal gates stretched out before her like an infinite succession of forks in the road, an endless number of choices. Each plane promised to set her feet somewhere new: Amsterdam, Tahiti, Venice, Sao Paulo. A thousands cities advertising a thousand different sights. But Piper knew by now that were was only one true destination. That year, every flight led back to Alex.

Most often, they traveled together. Piper would fall asleep against her girlfriend's shoulder on long trans-Atlantic flights, waking up sore and complaining about her lumpy pillow. Alex would tease her for her ability to doze off anywhere; on the plane, at the gate, in a train station. She was always playfully threatening to leave Piper behind. _'You'd never even notice,'_ she'd tease, and Piper's response was always just a sleepy smile. She could have said, _You're the _only_ thing I notice_. She could have told her, _You're the first thing I remember at the start of every morning. _But instead she'd just snuggle closer and bury her face in the warm crook of her girlfriend's neck, as close to her skin as she could possibly get with layers of clothing between them.

The spent months on end curling into one another beneath hotel bedsheets while, outside, time flew by almost unnoticed. Now it was the end of December, and beyond the walls of their rented room the beckoning glow of Parisian street lamps went unheeded.

Piper sat up slowly, untangling the bedcovers that had threaded their way around her limbs as she moved in her sleep. Alex was stretched out and dozing beside her, shirtless and soft and perfect.

As she made to stand up, Piper felt her girlfriend's fingers reach for her in the darkness.

"Don't leave," Alex mumbled, wrapping an arm around Piper's waist and pulling her back into the safe cocoon of their bed.

Smiling indulgently, Piper lifted Alex's hand and kissed the back of each knuckle before releasing it. "Okay," she whispered agreeably, pressing Alex's captured hand against her stomach.

"Good." Alex face nuzzled against her bare shoulder. "What time is it?"

She squinted at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was analog, not digital - probably intended as a charming touch of decor but was, in actuality, an annoyance. "I can't see it... hang on."

She made to roll toward the edge of the bed, but Alex still had one arm wrapped around her waist. "Alex..." Piper tugged on the wrist of the offending hand, and felt the grip loosen; for half a second she thought she'd won. Then Alex's palm slid upward, climbing the ladder of her ribs before settled over her breast and squeezing it playfully.

"Hey!" Piper whispered, in half-hearted protest. "Al..."

"Mm, what?" She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her girlfriend's shoulder. "You can't sleep naked and expect me not to take advantage."

"But..." She tried to focus, but Alex's hands continued to wander over her body, making it hard to concentrate. "Alex, it's nearly ten."

"What?"

Piper felt her girlfriend stiffen behind her, before uttering a soft curse and rolling away onto her back.

"Shit," she moaned "Pipes! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because I was asleep?"

"Shit! We were supposed to meet at the club half an hour ago. Where are my glasses?" Alex stood up, fumbling around for the light switch. The bedside lamp flicked on, and Piper ducked her head, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted. All the romance of the moment evaporated. She rolled over and got to her feet, yawning as she stretched her limbs

"I'll go get ready," she mumbled, disappearing into the bathroom.

They'd only arrived in France that morning; this time last night they'd been in Cancun. Well, not this time _exactly_ - jet lag was a bitch. They'd fallen into bed almost immediately after checking in to their hotel, heedless of the fact that it was New Years Eve and they had very specific plans to meet Alex's business associate, Fahri, at a club tonight. They were already late, and Piper hurriedly pulled on her dress and swept her hair back, taking far less care with it than she would ordinarily.

She was just putting her earrings in when Alex appeared in the doorway behind her. The brunette was dressed in her everyday uniform - her favorite pair of jeans and plain v-neck tee shirt.

"Alex, you can't wear that," she complained, studying her own reflection in the mirror with a critical eye.

"I don't want to go."

"What?" Piper turned around to face her girlfriend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you said this was important?"

"It's just a stupid New Years party."

"You said Fahri was going to introduce you to some contacts in the city."

Alex tilted her head back impatiently. "Well, fuck him." She pushed off from the doorframe, striding forward and draping her arms over Piper's shoulders. "Pipes, it's our first night in Paris. You really want to spend it at a stupid club? Let's go _out_. Let's see the sights."

"You love clubbing," Piper replied, defensively. "And you've been to Paris like half a dozen times!"

Alex slid her hands down her girlfriend's sides, tracing the outline of her body.

"But I've never been here with _you.__"_

The pure, undisguised affection of this statement made Piper smile, and she leaned forward as Alex placed a tender kiss against her cheek. "Okay," she conceded.

"Okay?"

"Let's go out, wherever you want. I'll go anywhere with you, Alex. You know that."

Because it was true on that first trip to Bali, and it was still true now: Alex was the kind of woman worth crossing the world in search of.

They left the hotel hand-in-hand, making tracks in the fresh powder of snow that carpeted the streets. Alex navigated their route with confidence. Her grip was steady on Piper's hand, drawing her along with such obvious intention that it begged the question: "Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see," Alex said, unhelpfully, grinning sidelong at her girlfriend as they walked.

They found their way to the banks of the Seine. Lights glimmered on the glassy water, which had not yet grown cold enough to freeze. There was something wonderfully calming about rivers. It was, Piper decided, the knowledge of their endless movement - that if she dropped something in the water now, it could be hundreds of miles away by morning.

They walked for a quarter mile before Alex found what she was looking for: it was a pedestrian bridge, wide but relatively unremarkable at first glance. There was a bright, anticipatory expression in her eyes as they crossed. She stopped walking at the exact midpoint, causing Piper to stare at her in confusion.

"The Pont de Arts," Alex said, by way of explanation. "Also known as the Lover's Bridge. Look." And she drew Piper toward the railing.

The wire fence that bounded the bridge was barely visible; thousands upon thousands of padlocks had been affixed to it, many of them with messages or pairs of initials scrawled across them. They had been left here by thousands of couples, mostly tourists. The padlocks were supposed to represent promises of enduring romance made while standing here in Paris, the City of Love. It was a cheesy gesture, borderline vandalism, but the symbolic sweetness of it caused Piper's heart to rise to her throat.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching for Alex's hand. She found it, only to discover that it was occupied by something cold and heavy. "Is that...?"

Alex opened her palm, revealing a small silver padlock with the initials A.V. and P.C written on it in permanent pen. "Yeah," she said, sounding unusually bashful. "It's kind of stupid, but I thought maybe... do you want to?"

"Yes," Piper said immediately. She took the lock,, and together they searched for an unclaimed space in the fencing. Before affixing it she glanced questioningly at Alex, who nodded - and then she looped the heavy lock through the fence, forcing it closed with a satisfying '_click._' Alex withdrew the keys from her pocket and tossed them over the fence, listening for the soft _plunk!_ as they sank into the water.

Now Paris would never forget them.

They stood for several minutes side by side, facing the river instead of each other, watching the reflection of the city lights ripple on the water. Piper felt suddenly afraid; it was like that moment in tug-of-war when you win, and then suddenly all of the slack rope comes flying at you and you fall, momentum knocking you backward. Piper had picked up so much momentum chasing after this person, trying to figure out if the love she felt was genuine or just some kind of gratifying pleasure. Now she was standing on a bridge in Paris, hand-in-hand with her: Alex, who didn't do courtship. Alex, who hated the rules of relationships. Alex, who was addicted to movement, who could never stay in one place with one person for too long; yet she had written their initials on a padlock and thrown away the key, and it felt a lot like a promise.

"You know," Piper said, breaking the silence. "It's probably close to midnight."

The memory of their first New Year's Eve together came flooding back, bringing a smile to their faces.

"Is that so?" Alex questioned.

"Mhmm."

"Well then."

And there, on a bridge spanning the Seine, Piper kissed her girlfriend like they were the only two lovers in Paris.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Sorry for the wait on this! I wrote something longer and then scrapped it because it was dreadful. So, anyway... here's wonderwall? (Thanks for reading!)

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><p>She opens the door and Alex is there, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with a knowing little smile, and Piper can't help but stare.<p>

She is attempting to fill six weeks of absence with a single glance, and she knows it's impossible but she has to try. Her gaze wanders over her girlfriend's tall frame, taking in the new clothes that cover the familiar shape of the body; the dark hair, inky black fading into blue like the gradient of a clear night sky, and suddenly Piper wants to tangle her fingers in those long tresses and make sure Alex is still _hers_. She knows its a cliché - needy girlfriend, pining woman - but six weeks is a long time to wait.

"Miss me?"

Alex's tone is teasing, taunting, like a verbal crook of her finger and Piper's resolve breaks. She crosses the threshold, propels herself forcefully through the doorway and into Alex's expectant embrace, and everything becomes tongues and teeth and grasping fingers. It is always like this: the desperate way they try to reclaim one another.

"I always do," Piper whispers, punctuating her words with a kiss, and Alex just smiles.

From behind her back she produces a bouquet of flowers; red roses, like the tattoo on her shoulder. Every time she comes home there are roses, and Piper accepts them gingerly; this thorny offering, this barbed apology. It's not _I'm sorry for leaving._ It's _I'm sorry you missed me, _and there's a difference between them but Piper has learned to accept it. Just like the absence, the flowers, the fact that Alex's job will inevitably take her away again, she accepts it because_ this moment_ is what they have. This moment is why they keep coming back to each other.

"May I come in?"

"You live here, Alex," Piper says, impatiently, tugging her girlfriend through the doorway.

"I was just being polite."

"Manners are not what I want from you right now."

She's done being patient. Within seconds she's tugging at Alex's jacket, casting it to the floor, her lips searching out every inch of skin within reach. Alex tilts her head back, eyes closed, letting Piper have this one brief moment of control; then she turns the tables, steering the blonde backward toward the bedroom. They leave behind a trail of clothing - and the roses, dropped carelessly upon the floor and forgotten.

The way Alex fucks her is another form of apology; it is torturously slow, lavishly attentive. She presses Piper facedown against the mattress, fingers moving in her from behind. Each thrust accompanied by the whisper of a lewd suggestion, a list of all the ways she'll make it up to her. Piper believes every word, unable to do more than moan her muffled approval into the pillows. "_I'm going to make you feel so good, babe," _Alex promises. And beneath that, the unspoken continuation: _I will make you forget that I was ever gone. _

Alex flips her over onto her back so that their eyes meet briefly, and Piper notices something smoldering beneath the surface of her girlfriend's glance. She wants to call it love but knows it could be gratification, or possession, or maybe just plain triumph. She tells herself they are all words for the same feeling. Her body unfurls below Alex like one of those apologetic roses, petals opening as she bursts into bloom, all her limbs falling limp upon the bedsheets.

::::::

...

"I promised Polly we'd be at her party."

Piper is standing in the kitchen, hours later, with a bed sheet wrapped around her and a glass of water in hand.

"I've got a better idea," Alex counters, sliding her arms around Piper's waist from behind.

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that you and Polly hate each other?" She twists around to face her girlfriend, eyes narrowed in challenge.

"God, Piper, I don't _hate_ her."

She makes a skeptical noise in her throat, prompting Alex to roll her eyes.

"Come on, I just got back from fucking _Munich_ and you saw Polly when, like, yesterday? A little consideration for my needs, please."

Alex pulls her closer and presses a trail of pleading kisses down the side of her neck, nipping softly at the delicate skin over her collarbone.

"Fine," Piper relents, helpless in the wake of her girlfriend's insistent lips. "What's your grand plan?"

Alex grins, victorious. "Follow me, madame," she prompts, taking Piper by the hand and leading her into the living room. She sits her girlfriend down on the couch and begins riffling through the television cabinet. She searches for a minute before producing a DVD case and waving it forth triumphantly.

Piper stares at the movie cover in disbelief. "You've got to be joking."

"Nope, totally serious."

"Alex, we are not watching The Santa Clause 2."

"Come on!"

"I'm not spending my New Years Eve with Tim Allen."

"Really?" Alex raises her eyebrows. "I thought you had a secret fetish for middled-aged men in Santa suits."

"Al-"

"It's okay, babe, you don't have to fight me for him. It's Elizabeth Mitchell I'm after."

"Alex..."

"Haven't you seen Gia? What I wouldn't give to be Angelina Jolie in that photography scene..."

_"Alex!"_

Piper glares at her, but the anger is an act. The truth is that _this_ is what she misses most when her girlfriend is away on business: the teasing, the sarcasm, the domestic squabbling. This is _her_ Alex: this playful contrarian, standing there with her raised eyebrow, _just getting a rise out of you, Pipes. _There's a childishness that only comes out when they're alone, and Piper is possessive of it - of the difference between who Alex pretends to be around others and who she admits to being when she's with Piper. Those moments when she lets her control slip and forgets to be invulnerable are Piper's most treasured possession, and they soften her resolve like nothing else.

"Come here," she says, firmly, beckoning to her girlfriend. Alex's eyes light up, because she thinks she's won; but giving in to her is easy. Piper would rather be here, mocking crappy holiday movies with Alex, than almost anywhere else.

"What about Holly's party?"

In response, Piper gives her a firm shove. Alex rocks backward, out of reach, laughing in unabashed delight at Piper's failed revenge attempt. She fishes the remote out from between the couch cushions and starts the movie, before draping one arm across Piper's shoulders to pull her closer.

Piper wriggles comfortably into position, still wearing nothing but the bed sheet. _I don't need Paris to be happy,_ she thinks. O_r parties, or booze, or anything except for this. _In a week or two Alex will leave again, but for now it is enough that she is here on the couch, her fingertips tracing the naked outline of Piper's shoulder.

Midnight finds them fast asleep, bodies curling into one another, unaware that another year has already departed.

On the floor behind them, unnoticed, the bouquet of roses has already begun to wither.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: I'm sorry it's been so long between updates, but this was probably the most exhausting bit of fic i've ever written. Here be angst, friends, so tread lightly! I'd be interested to hear what you think of it. There will be one more slightly lighter chapter, to wrap up the story.

* * *

><p>Three planes. Three planes since six yesterday morning, and now it's nearly 1 am and Alex is stuck in traffic. The cab driver gave Times Square a wide berth, but it doesn't matter - New Years Eve in New York City means absolute gridlock. The ball has already dropped, and now matter how fast the cabbie drives Alex knows it's too late to kiss her girlfriend at midnight.<p>

Piper will be at Polly's place, knocking back cocktails and listening to Polly's friends talk about their little start-up companies and their bohemian design projects and whatever else their small talk consists of. Frankly, Alex would rather not take part. But Polly is important to Piper, so Alex does her best to play nice whenever these parties come up. She hopes her girlfriend won't be too mad at her for getting home later than she promised, but she came from Tahiti. She took three planes. She _tried_.

At quarter to two the cab drops her off in front of Polly's east side apartment. She trudges up the stairs, dragging her carry-on luggage with her; the traditional bouquet of roses is in her other hand. The building is quiet, and when she knocks on Polly's door she can barely hear any noise on the other side. The door swings open, and Polly is the only person in view. 'The brunette doesn't look pleased to see her.

"Hey," Alex says awkwardly, forcing a smile. "I guess I missed the party. Is Piper still here?"

"No," Polly replies stiffly. "She took a cab, she's probably home by now."

"Oh. Okay."

"If I were you, I'd hurry. She didn't look too happy when she left."

"Fuck, okay." Alex sighs. "Thanks. Uh- happy new year."

Polly returns her wishes with a grave nod before closing the door, and Alex rolls her eyes. She and Polly have never liked each other. They maintain a careful truce for Piper's sake, but there are times Alex wishes they could just be rid of her.

She goes back outside. Hails a new taxi. It feels like the night will never end, and all she wants to do is get home, get under the blankets, and sleep with Piper's reassuring warmth beside her. The streets are still crowded due to the holiday festivities, and it takes another half an hour before the cab pulls up outside of her building. When she finally reaches the apartment, she lets herself in with a key.

"Piper?" the front room is empty; so is the kitchen. "Babe, I'm home."

No answer.

Deciding she must already be asleep, Alex drops her things by the door and carries the roses into the living room, intending to set them down on the table for Piper to find in the morning. She's surprised to see her girlfriend in there, standing by the window and staring out at the cityscape below. A book lies open on the chair next to her, its spine heavily creased. It's a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda.

"Pipes," Alex greets, smiling softly, "doing some late night reading?"

She crosses the room and kisses her girlfriend's cheek, encircles her waist like she's done hundreds of times before. Piper is clad in a drapey pale gold dress that makes her look like some stunning figure out of Greek mythology. She stares into space, gaze focused absently on a distant object. The reading lamp casts a backlit glow against her profile, leaving part of her face in shadow. Even like this, half hidden by the night, she's still a sight for sore eyes.

"Babe... what's wrong?"

Alex brushes Pipers hair back, letting her fingertips trail across the smooth plane of her cheek in an attempt to rouse her by touch, to bring her back from wherever her mind has drifted off to. Piper doesn't pull away or flinch; she just stands there, unmoved and unresponsive.

Finally, she turns her head and slides her gaze higher until she locks eyes with Alex.

"I kissed someone."

Alex pauses.

Pulls her hands away.

"What?"

The question hangs suspended between them, a heavy weight held up by a trembling strand of gossamer. For a long moment it balances there, unanswered, and there is still the possibility that Alex heard her wrong. That this isn't happening. That the thread won't snap.

But it does, and the answer falls from Piper's lips like some bone-shattering anvil, breaking it all open.

"I kissed someone else."

The words hit Alex like a gut punch. She turns away, not wanting Piper to see the way her face contorts, the way her hand trembles as she presses it dizzily against her forehead. The pain is like a physical blow, and she bends at the waist to absorb it. Her lungs contract like an overworked bellows. She allows herself this one moment of wounded surprise and then twists back around, fingers balled into fists.

"Who?"

She takes a step forward.

"Does it matter?"

_"Who?" _The word comes out in a hiss of fury, and Piper shrinks away from her.

"Just a guy," Piper says. "At Polly's party."

"A guy," Alex repeats. "You kissed a guy. At Polly's party. Tonight." She says the words slowly, punctuating each phrase with a brief pause. Somehow the knowledge that it was a man makes everything feel worse. "Did you bother to ask his name before he stuck his tongue in your mouth?"

Piper's chin trembles. "Look, Alex, it's just- it just _happened_, okay? It didn't mean anything. We'd been talking for a while, we were drinking, it just-"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she interrupts, her voice rising in pitch. "That you were flirting with him all night?" Her throat constricts, heart hammering so hard it might soon beat its way out of her ribcage. "I hopped three planes, Piper. Three fucking planes in thirty-six hours to make it back here, and then I sat in traffic for over an hour. And you-" her voice cracks "-you were kissing some guy, but it's okay because it didn't 'mean anything'?""

"Don't," Piper interrupts, and now she looks angry too. "Don't do that, don't act like you're blameless. Does it mean anything to _you_, when you're prowling bars in Berlin or Barcelona or wherever_, _buying drinks for girls who are barely legal?"

"That's different! That's work."

"_Work?_ Right, your _job_ - turning girls into drug mules. Seducing them with your cocky attitude and your stupid witticisms. Do you use the same lines on them that you did on me? How many of them have _you_ kissed, Alex? How many of them have you slept with?"

That stings. Alex isn't a seductress, she isn't some sleazy bar lurker slipping drugs into peoples' drinks. So what if she talks to a girl, and the girl is interested? The mules all have a choice. It's not her fucking fault if they choose to take her number, to carry a bag, to get on a plane. But Piper doesn't understand that, and deep down Alex begins to suspect that Piper doesn't even trust her. Not just because of the drugs, but because of Sylvie. Piper will never, ever, for a single second let Alex forget about the way they met; forget that she'd made Piper the 'other woman' in a short-lived love triangle. What happened with Sylvie was a mess, a mistake, but Alex feels like she'll never hear the end of it.

"Jesus, Piper!" She whirls away, pacing in a circle just to expel some of her pent-up energy. "Why are you still so fucking insecure? How many times do I have to tell you-"

"Do you even miss me?" Piper demands, behind her. "When you're out there, half a world away, working over your new mules- do you even think about me?" Piper's tone softens, her last words falling in a sudden hush like the sound at the beginning of rain shower.

Alex turns around to find Piper looking at her pleadingly, eyes wide with hurt and fear and something that might be shame. She has picked up the bouquet of roses and is handling it delicately, as if afraid the thorns will prick her.

Alex swallows hard, trying to suppress the painful lump in her throat. "I _always_ think about you," she says, forcefully. "I _love_ you."

"But you weren't there," Piper whispers.

"So you did it to punish me?" she asks, bitterly, her voice starting to break. "You- you kissed someone else because I was- because I was _late?_ My flight was overbooked! I tried, Piper! I fucking tried like hell."

She swallows again, to keep from crying. She _hates_ crying. There is a question perched on her lips, and she can't hold it there any longer.

"Did you kiss him at midnight?"

Piper closes her eyes. She doesn't have to answer.

Since they met, they've spent every New Year's Eve together. When the clock strikes twelve, Piper is always in her arms. Whether or not they kiss, whether or not they're even awake, holding each other as midnight passes is their way of saying 'I want to spend this year with _you_.' But tonight, Piper was in someone else's arms. Tonight, Piper was kissing someone else, and Alex can't help but picture it: _Piper laughing, drunk on champagne and reckless with holiday euphoria, being swept into the arms of some faceless stranger. Him leaning forward to steal a kiss, and Piper letting it happen, maybe even enjoying it, kissing him back..._

The image makes Alex want to rage and cry and howl. She feels like she's swallowed a vat of boiling water, and now everything inside her is burnt and raw and blistering. Her chest is going to burst open, the mirrors are going to shatter, the walls will crack and the whole building will come down around her. She almost wants it to.

Piper is crying now, tears sliding silently down her cheeks, and Alex hates her for looking so controlled. She wants to see her break down, sniffling, sobbing, eyes red and swollen, makeup running hideously down her face. But she looks so ethereal with her pale dress and her glistening cheeks, so angelic in her sadness that she might be carved out of marble.

_Fuck her_, for staying so composed. Fuck her for looking so beautiful when Alex hurts so goddamn much.

"Why?" Alex asks, her voice hoarse. "Why did you do it, Piper?"

Piper sets the roses down on the table and then wipes delicately at her face, whisking the tears away. "I haven't seen you in two months, Alex. You're never _here_. Every time you get on another plane, I think: what if this is the last time I see you? What if, this time, you don't come home?" She folds her arms protectively across her own chest. "Sometimes I wonder if I should stop waiting for you. Just pack my things and go."

The words are startlingly steady - practiced, even, as if Piper has rehearsed this conversation many times before. She isn't saying this on a whim. She _means_ it, and that changes everything.

Alex doesn't feel angry anymore. She feels scared.

She needs to fix this. She crosses the room, wraps her arms around Piper from behind. "Pipes…" she breathes the name, nuzzling her chin against Piper's hair and the side of her neck. "I'm sorry."

It costs her something to apologize. She doesn't do it often. She doesn't know what else to say. She presses her lips against the soft skin of Piper's throat. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry._" Each repetition accompanied by a kiss, each kiss growing sloppier, more frantic. She moves her hands to Piper's hips, pulling her girlfriend back against her own body.

Piper doesn't say anything - but she tilts her head back, and between kisses Alex can see that her eyes are closed, her jaw clenched. Whatever she'd thinking, whatever she's feeling, it doesn't matter; Alex can fix this. Her fingers find the zipper of her girlfriend's dress and she lowers it, slips her hand inside to caress the skin and trace the faint contours of Piper's ribs.

She can fix this. She can make the hurt stop_._ She can make Piper stay.

_She can fix this._

...

Hours later they are lying naked atop the bedsheets. One window curtain is still drawn open, and the light from the street creates long shadows that spill across the canvas of their skin like brushstrokes.

Piper is leaning away so far that she's almost curled in upon herself, but Alex holds her resolutely, hand wrapped around her midriff like a ring of iron. Like a handcuff. She's not trying to hold Piper prisoner, it's just that those words keep echoing in her head: _'Sometimes I wonder if I should stop waiting for you. Just pack my things and go.'_

She tightens her grip, nuzzles her face closer, takes in the smell of Piper's skin like it's the only reason to keep breathing.

"We can't do this anymore," Piper whispers, in a voice so exhausted that it hurts to listen to. "We can't keep fighting, fucking, and then forgetting about it."

Alex swallows.

"I know."

Neither one of them says another word.

_It's always darkest before the dawn_, Alex thinks, but when the sky begins to lighten she still hasn't slept. She is afraid to close her eyes, or to let go of the woman beside her. She's afraid of waking up to find the bed empty.

She knows that when Piper leaves it will be as sudden and total as the passing of midnight or the turning of the year; a moment marked only by Before and After, and this time there won't be a kiss to ease her through it.


End file.
